Man's Greatest Treasure
by CharlotteBlackwood
Summary: She had been utterly fooled, used, played like a piano. Helena Ravenclaw remembers the full extent of her own wicked act, the stealing of her mother's diadem. HR/OC OC/OC
1. Wit Beyond Measure

**A/N: Hey, all! This is my first founder's era fic, and it's also going to be the FIRST generation of my main story, my baby, the series I've yet to come up with an over-arching title for. All those other times I said I was writing the first generation… YEAH, I lied. But I'm going to skip from this story to Riddle-era, because there's not enough cannon to tie it to in between. If you're familiar with my other stories, this will be familiar, if you aren't, go check them out! I've yet to post my first bit of the Riddle-era yet, so you'd go straight from this to Some Other Beginning's End, my one-shot, and follow on from there. This is a preface of sorts, setting the scene in a way. Review, please!**

Well over a thousand years after her death, Helen was still at Hogwarts. The latest in the line of young women beginning with Gryffindor's daughter was in the mass of first years, waiting to be Sorted. Before it was her turn, however, the messy-haired boy and dark-skinned girl beside her in line were called:

"Potter, James!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

And later,

"Weasley, Roxanne!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally,

"Wood, McKenna!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Helena watched the black-haired, green-eyed girl take her place at the Ravenclaw table beside a pretty young Asian girl. She waved across the Hall to the Potter boy, who looked upset that she was not with him. They were so much like their parents. Helena would never forget that night she had spoken to the pair of them, the night her mother's diadem was destroyed.

_The Potter boy and Cromwell girl were looking at her. Helena disliked the idea of having to speak to Charlotte Cromwell, the picture image of her own childhood friend, Christiana Gryffindor. Not hesitating, Helena slipped through a nearby wall and glided down a corridor. She had almost reached the end of it when she heard the voice of the Potter boy._

"_Hey – wait – come back!"_

_Knowing she ought to, Helena stopped and faced them, not at all pleased to talk to them._

"_You're the Grey Lady?" Charlotte Cromwell said._

_Helena nodded._

"_You're the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?" asked Potter._

"_That is correct," Helena said coldly._

"_Please, we need some help," he said. "We need to know anything you can tell us about the lost diadem."_

_She grinned in spite of herself. Every one of Christiana's descendants… every last one…_

"_I'm afraid that I cannot help you."_

"_WAIT!" the boy yelled._

"_This is urgent," Charlotte Cromwell pressed, her green eyes flashing. "If that diadem's at Hogwarts, we've got to find it, fast."_

"_You're hardly the first students to covet the diadem. Generations of students have badgered me–"_

"_This isn't about trying to get better marks!" the Potter boy shouted. He did that quite a lot. That could come from the Peverell girl, or maybe Christiana's brother, Flint. That pair did little but argue. "It's about Voldemort – defeating Voldemort – or aren't you interested in that?"_

_Was she? Oh, yes. He had tricked her, used her, all those years ago… She supposed that was in his blood… Her reasons for wanting him gone were purely selfish and vindictive, one last stab at the line of the man who had used her first. Megan would have been proud of her reasoning; Christiana would have been appalled._

"_Of course I – how dare you suggest–?"_

"_Well, help us, then!"_

"_It – it is not a question of – My mother's diadem–"_

"_Your _mother's_?"_

_She had said too much. The Potter brat certainly took after Jenna. Flint was too lazy to ask so many questions._

"_When I lived," she admitted, "I was Helena Ravenclaw."_

"_You're her _daughter_?" gasped the Cromwell girl, probably not aware of the depth of her own lineage. "But then, you must know what happened to it!"_

"_While the diadem bestows wisdom," Helena stated, "I doubt that it would greatly increase your chances of defeating the wizard who calls himself Lord–"_

"_Haven't I just told you we're not interested in wearing it!" the Potter boy interrupted. Yes, he was just as impatient as Jenna. "There's no time to explain – but if you care about Hogwarts, if you want Voldemort finished, you've got to tell us anything you know about the diadem!"_

_Anything… there was a lot to tell, the story of herself, Christiana, Ernald, Jenna and Flint, Megan and Golda… what a story it was! And the diadem… and her mother… but they didn't need the whole gruesome story, just the basics…_

"_I stole the diadem from my mother."_

"_You – you did what?"_

_She would have to tell the story, some of the story, but she could leave out much of the blame of others in her wicked act._

"I stole the diadem_," she breathed. "I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it._

"_My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts."_

_Especially from the other founders. Rowena Ravenclaw had known perfectly well that Helena's closest friends, the daughters of the other founders, had had some hand in the wicked act._

"_Then my mother fell ill – fatally ill. In spite of my perfidy, she was desperate to see me one more time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so._

"_He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me."_

"_The _Baron_? You mean–?" began Potter._

"_The Bloody Baron, yes," she said, moving her cloak to show them her wound. "When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chains as an act of penitence… as he should," she added, thinking briefly on the name the students had given Ernald. Nathan would have thought it so funny… Nathan…_

"_And… and the diadem?" pressed the Cromwell girl._

"_It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree."_

"_A hollow tree?" repeated Potter. "What tree? Where was this?"_

"_A forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother's reach."_

"_Albania," he repeated. "You've already told someone this story, haven't you? Another student?"_

_Helena closed her eyes. This was the truly shameful part of her tale, and no one could be blamed but herself. She nodded._

"_I had… no idea… he was flattering. He seemed to… to understand… to sympathize…"_

_Like Megan. He had been just like Megan. But Helena hadn't seen it at the time, although she should have._

"_Well, you weren't the first person Riddle wormed things out of," Potter muttered. "He could be charming when he wanted…"_

_Charming… Megan… flint… Jenna… Christiana… and Nathan… oh, Nathan… what a foolish, naïve plan it had been…_

McKenna Wood fielded several questions about the great Harry Potter quite easily, but when the curiosity of her classmates turned to her mother, Charlotte Cromwell Wood, Helena noted the sour, jealous look behind the young girl's eyes. Perhaps this generation of Christiana's descendants had taken after Helena instead… Ravenclaw, indeed.


	2. A Rotten Deal

Helena left her mother's quarters to join her fellow returning Ravenclaws in the Great Hall. Malorn Ravenheart, oldest of them, sat at the head of their table, surrounded mainly by his many siblings. Over at the table on the far right, Helena's best friend, Christiana Gryffindor, was sandwiched between her older brother and Quinn Goldfountain, head of their cohort. Golda Hufflepuff was sitting across from Christiana, having shocked everyone by being the only one of her mother's children to be taught by another founder. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Boris Unicorntail sat at the head.

Megan, Helena's final best friend, sat at her father's table, Slytherin, across from Paul Mistgrave, head of their table. Godric Gryffindor stood at the front of the Hall, awaiting the new arrivals. There were ten, this year, and it was his job to sort them amongst the four founders to be taught.

Other students – those not raised by one of the four brightest witches and wizards of the age – were in awe of him as he sorted them, perfectly, each time. Helena was not in awe: She knew precisely how he had accomplished it. Godric Gryffindor was exceptionally gifted at Legilimency. He sifted quickly through the memories available to him and sorted the students according to the criteria agreed upon by him and his colleagues.

Helena watched the now-traditional sorting with bitterness in her heart. Godric Gryffindor had barely touched her mind, only doing so for show. He had known Helena all her life, he had known how much her mother had wanted to teach her, and he placed her, therefore, without really checking if he had done so rightly. Golda, on the other hand, as one of five children of Helga Hufflepuff, had been carefully evaluated and was now sitting where Helena so desperately wanted to be: with Christiana and awaiting a year of being taught by Godric Gryffindor.

The other fourteen students sitting directly around Helena were absolutely thrilled to be taught by the great Rowena Ravenclaw, the brightest witch alive. Rowena Ravenclaw, with her fancy diadem and brilliant ideas, creating new spells and perfecting ancient ones. Rowena Ravenclaw, the most intelligent witch with no time for her own daughter. Christiana said she understood, but how could she? She had grown up with siblings and two loving parents. Helena had grown up alone, her father dead and her mother always working. Christiana couldn't possibly understand.

The four girls were something like sisters, being the only founders' children to truly grow up together, as Salazar Slytherin and Helena Ravenclaw had each only had one child. Christiana Gryffindor was the spitting image of her mother, Elayne Gryffindor née Black, with jewel-green eyes and long, straight black hair that always fell perfectly without having to be brushed. Golda Hufflepuff had hair the color of wheat, falling to her elbows in soft, gentle curls, cascading around her face to frame her honey-colored eyes. Helena Ravenclaw had light brown, waist-length hair, somewhere in a texture between Christiana's and Golda's, far from perfect between the way it would frizz when there was moisture in the air and how she could barely get a brush through it most mornings. Her eyes were gray, the color of ugly clouds before a storm. Megan Slytherin looked quite a bit like her father, black waves to the floor, her dark eyes glittering with all of her plots and ideas, her cunning rivaling that of her father.

Helena knew that expectations were high for the children of the founders, especially herself and Megan; Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor had sons to pin their hopes and dreams on.

She hung back after dinner to customarily bid her mother good night.

"Mother," she said softly, smiling sleepily, though she was wide awake. "The sorting went well."

"Yes, dear," her mother said serenely. "Some great young minds to educate."

"You look quite tired, Helena, my dear," said Godric Gryffindor in a knowing voice, an amused twinkle in his eyes. He knew, of course, that it was all an act and he indulged her in this. He knew how badly she had wanted to study with him, but refused to discuss it with her, likely afraid of her mother discovering what he had done.

"Yes," she lied, not meeting her mother's eyes. "It has been a long day."

"Off to bed, then," her mother said with an indulgent smile. "I will see you at breakfast."

Helena bid her mother good night and went along her way.

Salazar watched his only daughter attach herself to the form of Rowena Ravenclaw's only daughter. Helena was a very pretty girl, already minding her own interests at the young age of thirteen. He suspected she was lying to her mother: The way Godric had spoken to her was not the first arousal of suspicion that there was some little joke or secret between the two of them. It almost felt, he mused, as though Helena had something on Godric, something he didn't want her mother to find out.

What could it be?

He had often though that Helena was ill-suited to her mother's tutelage. She was intelligent, but she was not an intellectual. She certainly didn't enjoy her colleagues, preferring her friends who studied under Godric, and her close friendship with Salazar's own student, Nathan Wyrmthorn. She had a good eye for talent and collected friends who were likely to be successful. Her own talent of getting people on her side on any issue was incredibly clever… sly, even…

Now that he thought about it, she wasn't at all the type of student her mother professed to cherish… she was the type of student he _himself_ held dear. Helena Ravenclaw would have been the jewel of his collection, only matched by his own daughter, if only for Megan's exceptionally strong will. Godric must have known this; he must have seen it when he looked into her mind… Why had he purposefully ignored this?

Perhaps he had done it out of respect for Rowena, knowing her deep desire to educate her daughter, which might be the sort of thing Godric would have done. Perhaps the knowledge of Helena's desire to be taught by Godric, and Godric's knowledge of her suitability for being taught by Salazar had something to with it. Perhaps Godric had decided that if he couldn't have her, it was safer, and certainly believable, to hand her over to her mother. This might appear, to the untrained eye, to be about Rowena, but Salazar knew better: This was yet another battle in that standing feud between Salazar and Godric that always seemed to be bubbling just below the surface.

Once the students had gone to bed, the founders exchanged pleasantries – the cacophony of empty words and meaningless sounds exchanged at every opening feast – and they went to their separate quarters. Salazar, however, simply beat Godric to his, waiting for him in a chair.

"Salazar," said Godric, his eyes narrowing. "What can I help you with?"

Salazar smirked. How to play his cards?

"I know what you did," he said softly, "and I know why. You were worried, weren't you? You knew how promising Helena was and once you realized you couldn't have her you decided it would be better to put her with her mother than were she actually belonged: with me."

Godric frowned, but he didn't deny the claims. That was all the confession Salazar needed: A man obsessed with honor as Godric was would never allow such things to be said about him if they weren't true.

"You're not going to tell Rowena."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

"No, it's not my style," Salazar admitted. "But your decision won't change anything, Godric. That girl is itching to throw off the bonds of her mother's academic attention, and she will be my student, whether officially or no."

The two men didn't break eye contact as Salazar backed out of the room until the door closed between them. Not a word about the situation would be mentioned by either of them for the next four years.


	3. Path to Downfall

Helena knew she shouldn't have been out so late, but it was the only time she and Nathan could get alone together without his brother interrupting and making advances. Standing in the dungeon, she was acutely aware of her surroundings, hearing every drop of water running down the walls, falling into a growing pool in the far corner. Footsteps… not Nathan's. She might get in trouble. Godric Gryffindor? Similar, but not quite.

"I thought I'd find you here, Helena, my dear," came the drawl of Salazar Slytherin. "I just found young mister Wyrmthorn making his way down here."

Helena's eyes widened.

"My mother… please…"

"She needn't hear about this, my dear," he said with a secret smile. "I certainly won't be telling her."

Anyone else, Helena would have been relieved and grateful, but this was Salazar Slytherin. In all her seventeen years, she had never known him to grant favors unless there was something in it for him. The question was, what would he want?

"You know, Helena, if it had not been for the deception of one of my colleagues, you wouldn't have to sneak around like this. It is all very vulgar, rather beneath a lady like yourself."

She didn't miss the accusation he had just thrown at an unnamed founder. Helena could make an educated guess on which one, but even Salazar Slytherin could be surprising at times. He was circling her now, watching her like a snake about to strike a helpless mouse.

"It's amazing to me, Helena, what a beautiful young woman you've grown to be. So lovely, so powerful… and yet," he whispered, "I shudder to think of how far you are from your full potential. If you had been taught according to your learning needs, why, you'd surpass even your own mother for power and importance. Of course," he hissed, as if to himself, "that's what they're afraid of."

"Who?" she whispered breathlessly.

Salazar smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, it was something like a self-satisfied smirk. Helena was no fool, he was pleased to have sparked her curiosity. He was a man not to be taken lightly.

"My dear, have you felt out of place in your time here? Have you felt as though you don't belong with those you are forced to consort with?"

He was certainly speaking of her sorting, but was he laying the blame solely on Godric Gryffindor, or was he suspecting a larger conspiracy? She wasn't sure what it was, but something about his words made her think he knew something she didn't.

"Perhaps," she said softly, keeping her face as neutral as possible.

"Godric knew you were to be put with a teacher he was afraid of you learning from, so he decided to put you safely with your mother, so you wouldn't be a threat to him. Rather selfish of him, don't you think, my dear?"

Helena tried to be objective, tried to filter his words in her mind, but it wasn't working. Godric Gryffindor had used her for his own little personal war against Salazar Slytherin, and she was horrified. She had spent her entire life idolizing Godric Gryffindor, wishing he was her teacher, wishing he was her father, but he had used her like a pawn in his own personal grudge. Perhaps he wasn't the man she had thought he was.

"What are you saying, sir?"

Salazar could barely contain his smirk at Helena's thinly veiled curiosity. This was almost too easy. Had she been his student to begin with, she would but much better at hiding her emotions, possibly even able to hide things from him. Godric had inadvertently made his using Helena that much easier.

"I'm saying exactly what I'm sure you think I'm saying. Godric Gryffindor realized you were suited for my teaching, and the thought at my teaching someone of your talents frightened him so much that he put you with your mother, where he thought you wouldn't be a threat to him."

Her pretty little face contorted with anger just visible under her mask of indifference. This was easier than Salazar had expected.

"I can help you, you know," he said, shrinking the circle he was walking around her. "I can help you reach your potential, become the greatest witch to ever live. Your mother's name will be a distant memory when people realize how wise and powerful you are. All you have to do is let me teach you."

Her eyes were truly blank. He was impressed. Even in the short time they had been talking, she had improved the covering of her emotions nearly tenfold. What he could do with proper training. He firmly suppressed the excited shudder running through his veins at the thought. He could think about that later. Now he had to plead his case, stay focused, talk her into his corner.

By the end of their cryptic, careful discussion, they had agreed to meet twice a week for "supplementary lessons", and that they would tell her mother they were having tea. Perhaps tea would be involved. For all his enigmatic ways, Salazar had a certain soft spot for the beverage and rarely turned down an opportunity to drink some. It warmed him without impairing his senses, which was incredibly valuable.

Salazar walked her back to her quarters to ensure that she wasn't caught by someone else, and then he retired in his own quarters. Before he climbed into bed, however, he turned to find his own daughter sitting in the corner, arms crossed impatiently, face empty.

"Good evening, Megan, dear," he said sleepily. "What can I do for you?"

"You've been following Helena," she said blandly. "Why?"

Ah, his clever daughter. Very little got past her watchful eyes and sharp mind. He was incredibly proud of her. However, in this particular endeavor would she be an asset, or a hindrance?

"That's none of your concern, dear. It is between myself and Miss Ravenclaw. Did you enjoy your evening with Mr. Wyrmthorn?"

Her smirk was barely evident, but she chose the path he knew she would.

"Which one, father? What are you talking about?"

"Ernald Wyrmthorn, dear. I'm sure you know about Nathan Wyrmthorn's sneaking out to meet Miss Ravenclaw. In fact, I believe it was your job to distract the elder brother's attention while her lover snuck away."

The smirk deepened.

"Oh, father, you make it all sound so vulgar, what with your talk of 'lovers'. If you must know, it was an absolute bore, as most of my life is these days. He, like everyone else around me it seems, could talk and think of nothing but darling Helena Ravenclaw. I'm not sure what makes him think she'll ever marry him. It's not as if they're betrothed."

Bitterness. She did seem to be just a hint jealous of Helena, at the very least. That could certainly be useful, he thought. But he had taught Megan very well… would he be able to use her?

"I'm sorry it was not an agreeable evening."

"What are you planning, father?" she said with a little frown that reminded him very much of her mother. "What do you want with Helena? This isn't about Godric Gryffindor again, is it? Christiana won't ever speak to me again if you keep this up and likely Helena as well. You know how she worships him."

"Change is a part of life," he said softly, watching her eyes puzzling out what he meant by that. "I think you ought to go to sleep now, dear. I've got some very exciting things planned for class in the morning, and I would hate for you to not be at your best because of some silly little conversation."

For several weeks, Salazar carried on, knowing he was being watched by both his daughter and Godric Gryffindor.

Megan was certainly not stupid. Her father was planning something, and from his regular meetings with Helena, it was something important. The trickiest thing was going to be figuring out how to get one of them to tell her what was going on so she could shift it to her advantage.

She hadn't been lying when she expressed to her father her bitterness at the attention Helena received from everyone. Helena and Christiana truly had the attention of everyone Megan could ever hope for attention from. Christiana, with her natural Legilimency skills, her Seer's eye, her striking beauty and Helena, with her clever mind, softer beauty, the sole inheritor of her father's grand fortune and title. It's not that Megan wasn't talented and beautiful. In fact, she was certain she was more talented and beautiful than the lot of them. Somehow, however, she had never gotten the recognition her "friends" had, and she had deserved it.

They sat down at breakfast, ignoring their cohort divisions, sitting at the end of the Hufflepuff table in four, Megan sitting across from Helena, next to Golda. It had always felt like an act of rebellion to Megan, sitting outside of her cohort, not like an act of friendship. Megan liked rebellion.

"I was thinking this morning," Christiana said with a smile, "we should go out for a walk around the lake this afternoon. It's supposed to be nice out today, and it won't be for much longer."

"That sounds lovely," Helena sighed. "It will be nice to relax. My mother has us studying day and night, it seems."

"I noticed you still had time to sneak out and see Nathan," Golda said with a wink. Helena blushed.

Nathan. Ernald. Helena got everything she wanted… everything Megan wanted. But that couldn't last forever. Megan would find a way to turn everything to her advantage, even if it happened to be at the expense of Helena.

She could wait. She would bide her time. If there was one thing Megan's father had passed along to his daughter, it was that if you waited long enough, the object of your ire always presented you with the opportunity to have them destroy themselves with little effort on your own part. Megan Slytherin was no fool. Even Helena Ravenclaw had weaknesses, and all she had to do was wait to properly exploit them.


	4. A Web of Twisting Plans

For the first time in her life, Helena was beginning to see the possibilities of a life with love in it, like the love that Flint and his fiancée Jenna Peverell shared. Megan had pointed out casually the key to her freedom, and it looked more attractive than she could have imagined.

If she stole her mother's diadem, Helena would be the clever one, the wise one, and combine that with her natural talents in areas her mother conveniently didn't notice, Helena would be able to run away with Nathan, and everything would be perfect. Why hadn't she thought of it before?

Christiana hadn't liked the plan, and was very vocal about it when the four girls sat down to discuss it by the lake. Golda didn't say what she thought, but Helena could tell it made the girl uneasy. Megan simply smiled as Helena told them how she thought it would work.

"I don't know," Christiana said slowly. "I mean, Nathan would go with you, but do you really think your mother would just let it go? I would think she would send someone after you. I mean, where would you go? Everyone would know the diadem was stolen. There's only the one."

This was a good point. She couldn't stay in England. Everyone would know what she had done. The diadem was famous.

"I'll just have to go away, then," Helena said, "until she's dead. I'll have to go far beyond her reach. I can start my own school. There's not likely to be institutions as fine as Hogwarts in the forests far east of here."

"Nor is there likely to be very many people, much less witches and wizards," Golda reasoned softly.

But Helena was past reason. She couldn't stay here with the diadem, but stealing the diadem would be her freedom, so she had to leave. Where exactly would she go? Did it really matter as long as she made it there, wherever there was?

"There are sects of witches and wizards," Megan said calmly with the air of someone who had done research, "in distant forests in a place called Albania. My father told me that there are small colonies there, banding together to hide from the persecution of Muggles. Perhaps you could find one of those. I daresay with the wisdom bestowed upon you by the diadem they might make you their queen."

Christiana frowned and Golda looked frightened, but the idea appealed to Helena very much.

"What about Nathan?" Golda said softly. "What will happen with him?"

"What of him?" Megan said quickly. "If he truly loves her, he will understand the need for her to do this. After all, it's the only way he could ever have her, to follow after her. If they're married abroad, Ernald can't possibly expect anything from Helena."

Christiana frowned more at this, this brilliant idea that Helena liked so very much. "I suppose it would be counted as legal," Christiana said slowly, "this foreign marriage? They aren't always, you know."

"Christiana, darling," Megan drawled, "we're witches. We'll make it legal. Don't worry so much and stop being so negative. It doesn't suit your complexion."

Indeed, Christiana flushed, probably with anger and embarrassment. Helena couldn't help but wonder why her best friend was being so negative, so against the whole plan. Perhaps she liked being the most powerful of the four and feared, like her father, what could happen if Helena got what she deserved? Perhaps she wanted Nathan and didn't like the idea of Helena actually getting the man she loved? That seemed the most likely, given the comment about the marriage…

Later that evening, she snuck away with Nathan, his head resting on her lap as she told him of the plan. His face showed no emotion, and when she finished he said softly, "Are you sure you want to do this, my love?"

"Of course!" she cried. "We'll be together, finally and your brother won't have any say!"

The small smile that formed as he thought about this disappeared almost as quickly as it ghosted onto his face.

"Are you sure that's even what this is about?" he said. "It just seems to me this is more about your bitterness toward your mother and Gryffindor than about us."

"Can't it be about both?" she reasoned.

"Of course, darling," he whispered, "it just seemed like the sort of vindictive thing that Megan would come up with, and I don't want you getting caught up in something that could end so messily unless you're absolutely sure it's what you want."

He sat up, kissed her forehead, wrapping his arms around her lovingly.

Helena couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between him and Christiana, if that was why they both seemed so against the plan that could bring Helena and Nathan together at last.

"What do you think of Christiana?" she asked, kissing Nathan's jaw gently.

He frowned at her, confused, and said, "She's a nice enough girl. Why?"

"Nothing," Helena lied. "Just curious."

Nathan raised his eyebrows, suspicious.

"My love, I've been taught by Slytherin. I can spot even the best of lies when I see it. What's bothering you?"

"It's really nothing," Helena balked. "Honestly, Nathan, I was just asking a question."

She knew he didn't believe her, but he didn't press the matter. That either meant he was hiding something or had decided she wasn't going to tell him what was wrong, anyway. He certainly wasn't going to tell him, so perhaps it was just as well that he didn't press, but Helena half wished he would.

"Your mother will be upset," Nathan said quietly after a moment.

"Let her be," Helena snarled. "Her precious diadem should be mine by right by now, anyway."

"Not about that," Nathan sighed. "About losing you. She'll be upset to lose you. I know you don't believe it, but she cares about you, Helena."

Helena just shook her head.

"I wish I knew what's gotten into you," Nathan sighed. "You're worrying me."

/-/

Something was off lately about Helena Ravenclaw, Salazar decided, watching her behavior. She was planning something, and whatever it was put those closest to her on edge. Christiana, Golda... Even Nathan seemed concerned. The only person who seemed, if anything, happier since Helena's strange behavior had begun, was his own daughter, Megan.

"What are you planning?" he muttered as he watched his daughter walking in from a courtyard, a smile on her face.

She was jealous of Helena, of course, and of Christiana. The only one of her friends who never outshone her in anything was Golda, and Golda didn't mind those sorts of things. Megan was very talented, very beautiful, and perhaps had she been raised in other company she would have had the world at her fingertips, but as it was, she had to combat the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls for any sort of attention, and usually lost.

Salazar watched Megan stroll down the stone corridor, head held high as he'd taught her, face a cool mask of indifference that had always come so very naturally to her. Once, she had been his pride and joy, his greatest achievement. Now he was hoping she wouldn't interfere with his plans for Helena, his new protégée.

"Megan," he said smoothly, falling into step with her as she walked past his perch. "I hope you're not neglecting your studies."

"Are they not satisfactory, father?" Megan drawled, not looking at him as they continued to walk in step.

"They are not as good as they could be."

"I apologize, I shall work harder."

"Indeed. There seems to be something troubling many of the students in your year, daughter."

Megan did not seem fazed by his pointing out the anxiety surrounding whatever was going on with Helena. Of course, he'd taught Megan not to be fazed by much of anything, so it wasn't any real indicator of how she felt about or understood events. He knew she wanted Ernald Wyrmthorn's attention. What he wasn't sure about was what she would do to get it.

"Is there?" she said casually, pausing to adjust her skirts before continuing walking as though nothing was wrong.

"Megan," Salazar said sternly. She did not respond. "Megan, I don't want you ruining things for me."

That got her attention. Salazar so rarely said what he meant that Megan dropped her own pretense of ignorance just out of acknowledgement of his behavior.

"How can I avoid such, father, if you keep secrets from me?" she said firmly, but then turned on her heel and walked away from him before he could respond.

Salazar didn't follow her. There was no point. He wasn't going to get any more out of her and all he could do was try to puzzle out if she was going to ruin things and see what he could do to counter her actions. Unfortunately, he'd trained Megan a little bit too well, so he couldn't trust that even if she told him something that it could be the truth he was looking for.

/-/

Megan could feel her anger burning in her belly as she made her way back to her room, but her face remained a mask of cool calm that she was known for, the mask that she had inherited from her father. Nathan Wyrmthorn was sitting in the armchair she expected him in and he smirked at her when she arrived.

"Upset, darling?" he drawled. "You look out of sorts."

Of course, she knew she didn't really look any such thing. Nobody else in the castle would have even guessed that she was any such thing. Nathan just knew her a bit better than everyone else.

"What would make you think that?" she sighed, sitting on the arm of his chair, draping her legs and skirts over his lap teasingly. "How is our darling Helena?"

"Dead set on your precious plan," he said, his lips curling into a smirk. "You did quite a good job on her, I must say."

Megan ran her fingers slowly through his dark hair.

"Good," she whispered, letting her finger run down his cheek. "Now we have to make sure she manages to carry it out."

"She will," Nathan said, his face suddenly turning serious, the smirk she so adored falling from his lips. "Helena's very capable, and she knows exactly where the diadem is kept. It shouldn't be difficult for her at all."

Megan, smile still plastered on her face, slapped him hard across the face, her nails digging into his skin enough to leave a few trailing, bloody wounds on his face.

"Helena is a little, disposable puppet," Megan whispered in his ear as he visibly clenched and unclenched his hands, itching to hit her back. "Don't you ever forget that, darling. Or have you already fallen for her?"

Nathan's eyes flashed and he gave a low, dangerous laugh.

"Give me a bit of credit, darling," he whispered, pressing his lips to Megan's.

There was no love between them, not really. Megan liked the way his lips felt on hers. It was little more than a chemistry between the two of them and a shared desire to bring down those who could challenge them. Helena, Ernald... They were easy. Christiana, that would be the trick. Megan was determined to accomplish what her father seemed somehow incapable of doing: Bringing down the mighty Gryffindors. How she would do it, Megan didn't quite know yet, but that could wait for the moment.

"How about," she whispered, "I heal those marks on your face and give you a few more in a less visible place?"

Nathan smirked against her lips, regaining his cool, something he'd not needed her father's tutelage to learn.

"That," he drawled in that way that made her shiver, "sounds like your best idea yet."

Megan led Nathan back to her quarters, her hand feeling so familiar in his, and she wondered if Helena ever made him cry out her name like Megan could.


	5. Stolen Away

Helena would sneak into her mother's chambers while her mother was having tea with Godric Gryffindor. She would take the diadem from the pillow her mother kept it on, and then she would conceal it... But how? She was afraid to turn it invisible. It was delicate. She thought about shrinking it, but there was quite a lot of danger in that, as well.

With a nibble of her lip, she grabbed a small bag on her bedside table, and attempted her first Undetectable Extension Charm, which was something she'd seen her mother do hundreds of times. It was really quite useful, she decided when she discovered that she'd done it all right. They should have been teaching it to the students.

The hardest part was the getting everything together for fleeing the castle. She had a broom, but she would go at least the first part of the way, to the village at the very least, on foot. They would expect her to fly, and so that would be the first place they would look, the skies. Helena was determined not to be caught. She'd said her goodbyes. She'd gathered all of her things. All she needed was the diadem.

Slipping down into the corridor, Helena tried her best to look completely like her typical self. No one could know that she was doing anything other than going to see someone for tea, going to meet her friends in the library, off to grab a quick mid-evening snack. There was nothing unusual gone. She would go to her mother's chambers, get the diadem, then go out to the grounds and get her broom, and take off from the edge of the forest. Everything would be fine. No one would suspect a thing.

The trickier part, she knew, as she neared her first destination, would be not to draw attention to herself, going out the front doors when it was growing so dark outside, for by then it would be darkening fast. Perhaps if she got waylaid she could make some excuse about leaving something out in the broom shed that she needed for an assignment. Surely she could think of some book that she might have left out there, something that couldn't possibly wait until morning. Books were very expensive, after all. What if something happened to it?

Only Godric and Salazar would see through a ruse as good as that.

She slipped through the corridors relatively unnoticed, though, and knew no one would have thought a thing of her going into her mother's chambers, so she entered them without hesitation, without bothering to look and see who might be watching.

Helena didn't need to search for her prize. Rowena Ravenclaw didn't bother hiding or locking away the diadem, because stealing it wouldn't have gone undetected by anyone in the castle, with no means of using it without someone finding out.

But Helena wasn't staying in the castle, so none of that mattered. She could use it to her heart's content in the wilds.

There the diadem was, sitting on the cushion her mother always left it on, gleaming slightly in the last vestiges of sunlight that were coming through the thin windowpane. So beautiful it looked that Helena realized after a moment that she had forgotten herself and had been standing there staring at it. Quickly, she snatched up the delicate diadem, gently lowering it into her bag, feeling around to make sure that it hadn't been damaged by any of the meager supplies she had packed, and then, satisfied, she turned and walked back out into the corridor.

It didn't take long to reach the entrance hall, which Helena thought was odd, but time traveled strangely when important things were happening. Perhaps it had something to do with that. There was no one to stop her from leaving, no one to make her stay, no one to witness her departure.

Good. She'd been half worried that Golda would have told her mother or Godric or Helga, or that Christiana would have actually gone out of her way to make Helena stay, to try to convince her to change her mind.

Nothing would change Helena's mind, not even Nathan saying he didn't love her anymore. It would be some design of Gryffindor, and she would trust everything she already knew to be true, nothing more or less.

The air was cool and close that night as she made her way across the grounds toward the broom shed. Helena drew her cloak close around her, pulling the hood up, both to hide her face and shield her from the cool of the night. She wasn't going to catch a chill when she wasn't skilled in healing and she was going somewhere where none could heal her properly.

Helena wished she could have brought Nathan with her. It would have been more difficult, of course, to get out without arousing suspicion. Especially as they were so very careful not to spend more time than necessary together in hours when anyone would be expected to be awake. But she still felt more than a little bit empty without him at her side.

She couldn't stop and think of that. She was almost at her kickoff point, the place where she would last put her feet on Hogwarts grounds, the last bit of the place that had been her home for as long as she could recall.

One last look back at the castle, Helena took a deep breath, mounted her broom, reassured herself that her bag was secure and her cloak was fastened tightly, and then she turned away from the castle and kicked off of the ground. She flew as fast and hard as she could, wanting to get as far away as possible so that if she did give in and look back, she wouldn't be able to see the outline of Hogwarts on the horizon and change her mind.

She couldn't change her mind. She'd gone too far.

/-/

Megan was smirking out over the grounds, watching the image of Helena Ravenclaw shrink into the distance, a tiny dot, just a sliver of a reminder of the thorn that had been in her side for too long.

Now if she could just find a way to get rid of Christiana, she could be happy.

"She's gone, isn't she?" said Christiana's voice from behind Megan's back. "She really left."

Think of the devil...

"Yes," Megan said, trying to sound solemn. "She's gone. I had thought to try to change her mind, but when I looked outside and saw her taking off, I knew it was too late."

"You didn't want her to change her mind," Christiana accused. "You wanted her out of the way. What I can't figure out is why. Was it for your father's attention, or some academic reason? Or..." Christiana's eyes widened. "You want Nathan, don't you? Or Ernald?"

"Don't be silly," Megan said, rolling her eyes. "You always did think small, dear. Why should I only have one reason to get rid of her?"

Christiana took a step back, disgust in her pretty green eyes.

"I'd hoped," she whispered, "that you wouldn't turn out to be such a horrible person. I guess it was too much to hope for."

Megan just smirked. Christiana and her talk of 'horrible people'. She still believed in good and evil, like she never did bad things, like Megan never did good things. Somehow it would be said that Megan and her father had corrupted Helena, had pushed her into the decisions she made, when really, she had that behavior in her all along. She probably would have come to the same conclusions herself. Megan just helped the progression along.

Selfishness wasn't a crime, Megan's father had taught her. It was a way of survival. She had to look out for herself, because no one else was going to look out for her. And so she looked right in Christiana's face, smiled, and said, "I'm sorry you feel that way. Perhaps we shouldn't be friends. After all, our fathers certainly are hardly even feigning civility at this point. What's the point in continuing our own charade?"

Christiana smirked right back, and Megan was almost surprised. But then, her father had always warned her that the Gryffindors weren't as perfect as they made themselves out to be.

"Fine," Christiana said smugly. "But don't expect this to go your way. Golda's going to side with me."

Megan snorted.

"Do you think I need Golda Hufflepuff to support me? How pathetic do you think I am? I don't need either of you, Christiana. Don't forget that. I'm a Slytherin. I rely on myself."

And with that, Megan turned on her heel and marched back to her quarters, ignoring the growing shadows, the suits of armor that watched her as she walked, their metal heads turning with the sound of metal scratching metal.

She hadn't done the right thing. She knew that. She had known all along that there was nothing right about it. But that didn't matter to Megan. She was doing exactly what she wanted to do, and nothing and no one was going to stand in the way of her plans.

Let Helena grow powerful in some forest on the other side of the world. Megan Slytherin would marry Ernald, would maybe even lead his brother along for a bit for fun. Ernald wasn't particularly fun, and Megan wasn't going to suddenly desire boredom in her life when she was married. Her father certainly hadn't, which accounted for the handful of mistresses he'd had before Megan's mother died and he went into mourning for the sake of his daughter.

Megan found her bed and curled up into it, turning the portrait of the four 'friends' over on her table, not wanting to look at those smiling faces of ten-year-old girls that looked like her and her 'friends'. They were young, naive, thinking that all they needed in life was friendship, as if such a trivial notion would get anyone anywhere.

Yes, Megan had needed her friendship with Helena, but Golda and Christiana had been a tiresome sort of waste of time.

The Wyrmthorn fortune and title were certainly low goals, but Megan had a bigger one to start planning: The downfall of the Gryffindors.

How she was going to do it was still a mystery, and whether or not to wait until Godric Gryffindor was dead was a very big question, but Megan knew that if she didn't determine her path right away she would end up like her father: aging and still looking around for an in to begin his devastating plan. Megan wouldn't be so weak. She would finish her goals on her terms, not on what was presented to her by someone else's folly.

"I will succeed," she whispered into the darkness around her, the night that filled her room. "I have to succeed."

And her father would be proud of her. How could he not be? She would have accomplished everything he had wanted to accomplish for so many years, and quickly.

And she would be the one to do it, not Helena, to accomplish it.

Salazar Slytherin would be proud of his own daughter for once, not someone else's.

Megan lit a candle, deciding that the air was closer than usual in her room and that she wasn't fond of the dark.

She watched the flames dance along the wall, the green light that covered the rooms in her part of the castle, the place where students of her father were housed, dancing along the wall.

She had done the right thing for her goals. Helena was expendable, even more than expendable, and Megan had big goals. And that was that. Christiana could paint it with whatever moralistic color she wanted, but Megan had done what she needed to do.

Megan watched the flame flickering in the green light as it went on and she fell asleep.

/-/

In his own way, Salazar Slytherin really did love his daughter, but she was too much like him to really be anything other than proud of in a way that most of the world could understand. And he knew almost the moment that Helena left what was happening and who had done it. What he didn't know was why she was leaving, what Megan had whispered into her ear to convince her that it would be ideal for Helena to leave Hogwarts, leave her mother's care, leave Nathan Wyrmthorn. No, he couldn't figure it out, but he would.


	6. Fallout

"Helena," Rowena was rasping and Salazar watched on with cold, empty eyes as he watched the sick woman reaching out for the girl who still had not come. Whether she'd heard about her mother's condition from wherever she ended up after running away no one knew, but Rowena Ravenclaw was fading faster than any of her colleagues could have guessed.

The three of them left the room and Helga shook her head.

"I will be able to have her awake and lucid for an hour tomorrow as you asked," she whispered to Salazar and Godric. "But I still would like to know that it's important before-"

"Essential," Salazar said smoothly, and Helga nodded, still looking a bit skeptical, before stalking away. "I hear your son is getting married, Godric. My congratulations to you. Jenna Peverell is a very pretty girl, should bare him many children with exquisitely pure blood."

"You know was well as I do that this is hardly why he's marrying her," Godric answered warily. "Are you sure you don't know where Helena is? This is beyond Rowena's comfort at this point. I'm worried about her."

"I promise you," Salazar admitted honestly, "I have no notion of where the girl could have gone, and if my daughter knows she tells me nothing."

Godric nodded, looking back through the open door to Rowena, who was lying in bed, muttering to herself and sweating madly.

"Christiana blocks her mind from me as a habit and has since she learned Occlumency," he whispered. "If she knows I'll never get it out of her. I would question Golda, but I feel as though it is not my place."

Salazar nodded in agreement.

Ironically, for four people who had been working together for almost half a century, the only thing they all seemed to agree on anymore was that they absolutely needed to find Helena Ravenclaw, albeit for different reasons.

Pursing his lips, Salazar said nothing of the opportunity that occurred to him as he thought of how close Megan and Nathan Wyrmthorn had grown since Helena ran away. If there was something going on there, Salazar wouldn't put it past Megan to use him in her plans. Nathan might know something.

"I will continue to pursue this and hopefully come up with a course of action to suggest for our meeting tomorrow," Salazar hissed. "Excuse me, Godric. I must... look into something."

If Godric was looking at him with suspicion it was no matter: it was no different from how he usual looked at Salazar Slytherin, and for very good reason.

Salazar walked along the cold stone corridors with a singular mind, forgetting about the proposal he was preparing for the following day, focusing only on where he might find Nathan Wyrmthorn.

"Father?"

He froze, turning around to find his daughter looking up at him with tear-stained cheeks, ruffled hair, and torn robes. There was a bruise on her face and a small trail of blood down the inside of her leg that he could only see because her robes were so inappropriately torn.

"Megan?" he said, stunned. She whimpered, stumbling backward into the classroom a bit. He rushed forward and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the teacher's desk and laying her down on top of it. "What happened?" he asked urgently. "Who did this to you?"

"It hurts," she moaned. "Father, it _hurts_."

"I'm going to make it better," he promised, running his fingers along the tear tracks on her cheek. "I promise, darling, I'm going to fix this. Tell me what happened."

But Megan was not in a state to be telling him anything.

Salazar was disconcerted at the state of his daughter, and he knew there was only one man he could use to get the answers he needed from.

Sometimes it was important to suck up one's pride in order to keep the plans in motion, and little was more precious to Salazar than his daughter.

He settled her in his own bed after carrying her to his quarters, carefully warding the entrance as he went to track down Godric Gryffindor, who was going over some essays in his own quarters when Salazar burst in.

"Is it Helena?" Godirc asked, standing abruptly at the unexpected entry. "Do we have some new information?"

"It could be, but my reason for coming is equally important to me," Salazar said honestly. "My daughter... Megan has been attacked and I need to know who and why. You know as well as I do that she very likely knows about Helena. This could easily be related."

"You want me to use Legilimency on your injured daughter?" Godric clarified. "I... I don't really know that it's ethical, but-"

"But we have very little other choice," Salazar replied with grim firmness.

"I will," Godric said, sighing. "Where is she?"

"Follow me," Salazar said, leading Godric to the classroom where Megan was sobbing, shivering, and whimpering on the table where her father had left her

"Megan?" Godric said gently. "Megan, how do you feel?"

"It hurts," Megan whimpered again. "H-hurts."

"Should I get Helga?" Salazar asked softly. "Do you think she's been heavily injured?"

"Hurry," Godric said, touching Megan's forehead gently. "She's losing more blood."

Salazar could feel his pulse pounding in several different places, including his throat, as he rushed away to find Helga, who hurried after him the moment he said Megan was hurt, no discussion necessary.

"How is she?" Helga asked immediately as she rushed into the room. Godric had Megan propped in a sitting position with some books behind her, her face covered in sweat and tears. "Oh, dear," Helga sighed. "She's in a lot of pain. Hold her still, Godric, while I check her over."

Godric held her shoulders to keep her from shaking, and Salazar held her hand.

After several minutes of intense Legilimency, Godric sighed.

"I've got your answers, Salazar, but we'll discuss this when she's been properly tended to."

"Thank you," Salazar said tightly, watching as Helga began patching up his daughter.

Ten minutes later, Helga was helping fix Megan's robes and helping the girl back to her quarters, where she agreed to watch over her so she could rest. Godric waved his wand to clean off the desk, which was covered in blood stains.

"What did you find?" Salazar sighed, putting his hand to his forehead and rubbing his temples.

"Nothing you're going to like, I'm afraid," Godric sighed. "She did a very good job modifying her memories where Helena was concerned, but I could tell they were modified. I don't know what she does or doesn't know at this point, so that's not very helpful. But I do know who attacked your daughter, and I get the feeling he knows something about Helena."

Salazar looked up at Godric.

"Well?" he demanded. "What happened? Who did it?"

Godric gazed at him sadly and said, "Nathan Wyrmthorn, and I wouldn't have known it was him if she hadn't said his name as he assaulted her. Salazar... he distressed her quite a lot. I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't know you needed to hear it, but he did rape her. I don't... I don't know what the purpose was, but it was horrific. I know you value ambition and taking what you want but this..."

"Taking my daughter doesn't count," Salazar growled, pounding a fist against the stone wall. "I think it's time I have a talk with Mr. Wyrmthorn, Godric. How about I promise not to kill him and report back with what I can gather on Helena in an hour? If I get nothing, I turn him over to your care."

Frowning, Godric raised an eyebrow, but after several moments of consideration, he slowly nodded.

"Agreed."

It wasn't too hard to find Nathan Wyrmthorn, being exactly where he was supposed to be, his face full of innocence and surprise when his teacher barged in, full of fury.

"Sir," Nathan said, feigning bemusement.

Salazar pulled out his wand, pointing it at his student, hoping that he wouldn't have to harm the boy. Explaining to the parents would be messy.

"I'm going to give you exactly five minutes to explain what you did to my daughter, beg for your miserable hide, and give me the location of Helena Ravenclaw. Then we will discuss what is to be done with you. If you fail to comply within the given time, I will skin you alive. Understood?"

Nathan stared at the tip of the wand with wide, terrified eyes.

"Helena's somewhere in a forest in the east! I don't know where," he said quickly.

He then proceeded to beg, indeed for his miserable hide.

The one thing he forgot, of course, was to explain what was done to Megan, but Salazar hadn't really expected that one. After all, what rapist wanted to explain his act to the father? Indeed, Salazar had rather been hoping the boy would forget that bit.

"If Helga asks," Salazar said lazily, "you are to tell her that you burned yourself experimenting. Understood?"

/-/

Helena shivered as another wind blew through the trees.

No, things hadn't turned out as she had expected.

The diadem had given her the wits to survive in the harsh eastern forest, but there were hardly any people. Starting a school would be ridiculous. She might get four, five students in the next five years if she was lucky. More likely she would only get two, but she knew she would need to stabilize herself within her environment before she could think of starting a school, and that meant survival.

Helena hovered over the fire she'd made in her hut's meager fireplace, rubbing her hands together. Christiana must have told her father by this point where Helena was, or perhaps Golda had mentioned it to her mother. Nathan had not come for her, which she felt like a stab in the gut. And Megan's plan was looking less and less attractive the longer she stayed in the forest.

But that could not be remedied anymore.

Perhaps it was mostly a matter of pride that Helena would not go back to England, back to Hogwarts, but how could she? After taking a prized heirloom from her mother, fleeing the country, and not leaving behind a word... How could she even possibly think of going back?

But she did think of it, nearly every day. She was constantly thinking of how everyone would have missed her, of Nathan finally publically declaring his love for her, of her mother's blessing, of being welcomed back into the fold, and of making Godric Gryffindor truly regret what he had done by tampering with her Sorting.

It was all just a dream, though. Helena could not go back, could never go back.

She waved her wand and watched the fire pick up just a little bit.

In a year's time, she would be ready to start building her little hut into a bigger abode, a space where she could house and teach a few young pupils. There were small gatherings of dwellings nearby, people with magical children who were hiding from the superstitious villages on the outskirts of the forest. She knew that leaders had children who were the proper age for educating. If she ingratiated herself with them over the course of the year, showed off her wisdom, there was no reason she couldn't pull it off.

The planning seemed so much more difficult now that she was in the forest, though. Helena didn't know the first thing about teaching. She roughly knew her own education, but she had been at it so many years that trying to organize all of the curricula in her mind was a disaster. The very fact that she had a year to get it done was actually something of a miracle, because there was a lot to sort out. And Nathan would be with her by then. Everything would sort itself out, just not as easily as she had thought within the stone halls of Hogwarts.

When Helena heard someone knocking at her makeshift door, she picked up her wand and squeezed it tightly, ignoring the sparks as she called out that she would be right there, pulling on her coat, still not comfortable inviting the locals into her meager home.

She wanted it to be much more polished before she entertained, to further impress them.

However, she was shocked to find that it was not a local, but a familiar face that welcomed her when she opened the door.

"I'm so glad I found you," Ernald Wyrmthorn said with a grin, following her into the forest. "I've been looking for a week."

"Shouldn't you be at school?" she snarled.

"Shouldn't you?" he countered, surprisingly respectfully. "I am here on behalf of all the founders, because they couldn't come find you themselves, and my family has... a fair amount to atone for at the moment." He sighed. "Your mother is dying, Helena. I am here to tell you, on their honor, that all will be forgiven of you if you simply come and see her once more before she passes. She pines for you."

Helena felt a twinge of guilt.

"What do you mean, atone?" she snapped, latching on to the other thing Ernald had said.

His face contorted slightly and he said, "To be honest with you, my brother has... He raped Megan Slytherin. They... they had been fooling around and he got in a fight with her and got carried away. He's gotten rather entitled lately, but he will suffer for his crime."

Her eyes opened wide.

"No," she rasped. "You're lying to me."

He frowned even deeper, his eyes narrowing slightly with hurt that made her feel strangely satisfied.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" he demanded. "I am ashamed of my brother's actions, Helena. I wouldn't make up something so horrific."

She felt her own face contort with rage.

Nathan... Nathan loved her. How could he... How would he do something like this to her? With Megan of all things? If this were true, if he had really been with Megan, what if they were just getting rid of Helena? What if Christiana had been right? What if Nathan really had done something so... so atrocious?

"Your mother is dying," Ernald repeated. "I wish you would come back with me. I don't know, honestly, what you've done, but there's a clean slate waiting for you at home."

Helena thought of the dreams she'd held of returning home, thought of holding her mother's hands in her last moments, feeling a sense of belonging, being with her friends again.

She wouldn't lie to herself and say that it wasn't appealing, especially compared with the prospect of her hard year fighting uphill to build up enough of a rapport with the locals to start her own school. And even more especially because she was going to be doing it, apparently, without the support of Nathan.

And then Ernald took her hand uninvited, smiling at her.

"You can come home," he said softly, ignoring her outraged expression as he smiled at her. "We can get married-"

"Stop," she insisted, pulling her hand out of his in spite of his efforts to hold on even tighter. "Stop it, Ernald, this is hardly the time or place to-"

"Is it because you've discovered what a beast my brother is?" Ernald demanded.

Couldn't it be because her mother was dying? Couldn't it be because she was distressed and confused and far from home?

"Stop it," she repeated. "Nathan may have made a mistake, but-"

"Helena, this wasn't a mistake! This was Nathan being Nathan and getting caught," Ernald snarled. "I know you can hate me all you want, but I won't let you be in denial about my brother. Your mother wants to see you and you're going to marry me if I want you to or not."

And that was really just about the worst thing he could have said right then. Helena just snarled at him, forgetting about her wand and smacking himacross the face. Ernald held his hand against his stinging face, standing there as she considered hitting him again.

"I will never, ever, marry you," Helena spat, deciding it wasn't worth the energy. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts. I'm not going to leave this forest, and my mother can die alone for all I care. And you know what, Ernald? I will never, _ever_ marry you. I would rather die."

She turned to walk back into her hut, wishing he would be angry and hurt enough to leave her alone. Because he was right, if she went back to England she wouldn't have a choice. She would legally have to marry him.

What she hadn't expected, though, was to feel a sharp, searing pain in the middle of her abdomen, looking down to see bloody pooling on her coat. She saw the point of a sword sticking out of the front of her stomach and she realized what had happened.

Ernald Wyrmthorn, the suave, careful, measured brother, the Baron, had finally and completely lost his temper. He had stabbed her, and not only that, but he had stabbed her in a way that she knew, in that moment, and she started to grow woozy, was that her wound was fatal.

She turned.

"Why?" she said, watching his hand move away from the grip of his sword, stunned by his own action. "Why would you do that?"

He just shook his head, staring at her as she fell to her knees in the snow-covered ground.

"Who's the monster now, Ernald?" she whispered, eyes slightly glazed as she touched the blood on her front, gazing at it on her hand, wondering how the loss of something so ordinary could be so drastic.

"No," he muttered. "No, no."

There was one positive Helena could see in the sword through her belly.

She wouldn't have to marry Ernald Wyrmthorn after all.


	7. The Prophecy Revealed

"Megan sort of got what she wanted," Christiana said to a hovering, silvery Helena, who was watching her mother being put into the ground, her wand on her breast.

Helena's ghost had not arrived at Hogwarts in time to say goodbye to her mother, and Ernald's ghost had arrived a day later. He had sliced himself bloody out of remorse for what he had done and carried chains around to atone for what he had done to Helena, and she thought it was quite right of him to do so. Even in her ghostly form the wound from his sword remained on her body.

"Nathan had to marry her," Christiana continued, turning away as they covered the grave. "She was pregnant. She got the Wyrmthorn fortune, and when she and the unborn child were designated heirs, he...mysteriously died."

Helena frowned.

Megan had killed him. No one would ask the right questions, even if they knew the answers, because they wouldn't want to cross her father, but everyone knew she'd killed him.

"And she just had a miscarriage the other day," Christiana said with a wistful shrug. "I'd bet my ring she forced it somehow. She knew her new beau wouldn't want to raise another man's child. It was what kept him from proposing."

He had proposed, and Megan's wedding would be in three months. Helena glided across the grounds beside Christiana, whose own engagement ring shone brightly on her finger. Helga had married some upstart named Smith and Christiana had ironically chosen, as her brother had, a wealthy husband of remarkably pure blood. He had actually been Megan's first choice to court after Nathan's death, but Megan found that even when she got what she wanted, she rarely got what she wanted.

"So there will be no future Baron Wyrmthorn," Helena mused. "How deliciously ironic."

Christiana's walking slowed and Helena turned to look at her as she paused her own progress back to the castle.

"Is something wrong?" Helena asked.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Christiana said softly, frowning slightly. "Helena... What did you do with the diadem? Where is it?"

Helena thought for a moment on how to answer, if she should answer at all. Christiana was still moderately friendly with Megan, if only for the sake of propriety. She had a life ahead of her, children to raise someday... What did Helena have, besides this secret, this terrible secret?

"No," she said slowly. "No, I have nothing to say to you, Christiana. That diadem is a Ravenclaw heirloom and should have been buried with my mother. Since it was not, it remains where I put it."

Christiana just stared at her for a moment with that utterly impassive Gryffindor face of hers before she nodded to acquiesce.

And Helena thought, naively, that there would be no more questions about the diadem. In her mind, in that moment, it would remain in the hollowed tree in the east forever, lost in a forest somewhere. Even if she wanted to return and look for it, it wasn't as if she could take it anyway. Perhaps it was selfishness that kept her from telling Christiana, but she knew her friend was not as innocent in all of this as she claimed to be. If she had really wanted to stop everything, she could have used her power for Legilimency and told her father what Megan was planning, she could have told Helena about Nathan and Megan.

Instead, she either looked and didn't say, or didn't look when she suspected things would go badly.

She was just as guilty as everyone else, if in a different way.

/-/

Christiana's funeral was just as well-attended as Rowena Ravenclaw's. Her father and brother were there, as well as her husband and their daughter, Felicia. Felicia was already the very picture of her mother, dark hair and bright green eyes. She was being kicked by Flint's son, Jesse, and was doing a very good job of ignoring him while his mother tried to keep him in line. Jesse's mother was holding Felicia's baby sister, Hanna, as she cried for her dead mother. Helena watched from the edges. Megan was hiding her smile behind a black veil and Golda was blubbering into a handkerchief.

Godric Gryffindor covered her tomb and kissed the stone they'd set up, tears in his eyes.

It was strange to think that Christiana Gryffindor, such a force of nature, was gone forever.

They laid her in the ground and Helena floated away, seeing Ernald making his way toward her slowly. She didn't want to hear what he had to say. She didn't want to hear anything. She blocked out the sounds of Golda and Hanna crying as she returned to the castle.

/-/

Felicia died young as well, with two daughters in her wake and no sons. Helena was not the only one who noticed the unbreaking trend developing in Christiana's posterity. Each eldest daughter then had two daughters and proceeded to die young, usually violently, although not always. And the circle began again.

It took several hundred years for the meaning of it all to be revealed, and it was revealed at a funeral of one of the descendants, a young woman named Sophie who had left behind daughters by the names of Bethany and Molly. The girls were seven and five at the time of their mother's death, and it was Molly, the younger of the two, who was overcome with a vision during the funeral.

Helena watched as Molly began to tremble in her seat, drawing the eyes of all of the funeral-goers. At first they must have thought that the small child was overcome with grief, but Helena had seen this before, and when Molly's mouth began to speak words not in her voice Helena's suspicions were confirmed.

The small child was prophesying.

"THE CHILD WILL COME IN CENTURIES," Molly's unnaturally low voice said urgently. "A CHILD MORE POWERFUL THAN ANY BEFORE OR AFTER. THE CHILD WILL BE OF THE SEED OF THE LIONNESS, DOWN THE FEMALE LINE, UNBROKEN AND UNTAINTED BY MALE CHILDREN. THROUGH EYES OF GREEN THE LINE IS KEPT. THE CHILD WILL BE BORN IN A TIME OF GREAT PAIN FOR THE MOTHER, AND THE MOTHER LIKE HER MOTHERS BEORE HER WILL DIE WHILE THE CHILD IS STILL UNABLE TO COMPREHEND HER POWER. THE CHILD WILL LIVE IN A TIME OF GREAT TRIAL AND PAIN AND HER PAIN WILL BE PART OF HER GREAT STRENGTH. THE FATE OF THE WIZARDING WORLD SHALL DEPEND UPON THE POWER OF THE CHILD. HER HAPPINESS MUST BE FORFEIT TO THE GOOD OF THE WORLD."

Molly shook violently again, passing out from the exertion. Her father picked her up into his arms, clearly horrified by what had just happened at his late wife's funeral. Bethany watched her unconscious sister with confusion and terror.

Helena's eyes narrowed and she glanced at the Ministry official, who quickly pushed something into his pocket.

It was a record, she knew, of the prophecy. The collection of prophecy records was a rumor that was among the Ministry's worst kept secrets. People who guessed all but knew, and only those who didn't care didn't know.

Several guests had begun to glance at Sophie's daughter with interest. Not Molly, but Bethany. The funeral proceeded as planned while Molly was unconscious, but Helena etched those words onto her memory forever, knowing that she would be the only one present at the funeral who would see this child the prophecy spoke of, coming in centuries.

/-/

There were corollaries to the main prophecy over the centuries, ones that pointed more clearly to the child who would come, and to her mother. Still, Helena had no inkling as she watched the descendants of Christiana follow the pattern of the prophecy carefully in their lives and deaths, that they were nearing the child prophesied.

Nearly three centuries later, she was hovering at the back of another funeral in that same line. This one had married a man named Rovigatti, and had given her daughters the unusual names of Aindora and Eoladra. Aindora was still very small, but her eyes flashed the vibrant green her mother had possessed. Eoladra's eyes were a sort of blue-green.

It didn't matter that Aindora was the oldest, really. Helena could always tell who would be the next in the line of the prophecy by the eye color, and even as young as they were it was obvious that Aindora would be the one to have the two daughters to continue the line.

There was something else Helena knew just by looking at the girls, not from any prophecy but from personal experience: both Aindora and Eoladra Rovigatti would ask Helena about the diadem. It wasn't anything to do with them specifically and she did not have the faintest idea why they would ask. Every one was different, but every single descendant of Christiana Gryffindor had asked thus far, for one reason or another. These two would be no different.

And the cycle continued….

**A/N: And this is the final chapter! For the next set of shenanigans, check out **_**Don't Let Go of Me**_**, which is Aindora's story!**

** -C**


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